


I'll Miss You When You're Gone

by GideonGraystairs



Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: (barely), 5+1 Things, Alec Lightwood Deserves Nice Things, Canon Universe, Comfort, Domestic Magnus Bane/Alec Lightwood, Engagement, Established Relationship, Feels, Fluff and Angst, Good Boyfriend Alec Lightwood, Good Boyfriend Magnus Bane, Hurt Alec Lightwood, Immortality, Insecure Alec Lightwood, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Relationship Discussions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-17
Updated: 2017-12-17
Packaged: 2019-02-15 20:48:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,151
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13039122
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GideonGraystairs/pseuds/GideonGraystairs
Summary: And then, because his mind has always been a traitor, he thinks about Camille, and how Magnus has known herforever, and then he thinks about how long forever is for him and how long it is for Magnus. In a moment of cold realization that should have been creeping up on him for weeks now, Alec realizes that their definitions are different.Or five times Alec and Magnus don't talk about Magnus's immortality, and the one time they do.





	I'll Miss You When You're Gone

**Author's Note:**

  * For [magnificentbanes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/magnificentbanes/gifts).



> This was written for the Malec Fic Exchange organized by the wonderful [magnusalec](http://magnusalec.tumblr.com).
> 
> magnificentbanes - I hope you enjoy your fic and that it's everything you wanted! I focused on the "Magnus and Alec talk about immortality" prompt, but I also worked in a little nod to one of the others. I had so much fun writing this, so I really hope you enjoy reading it <3
> 
> A massive massive thank you to [taupefox59](http://taupefox59.tumblr.com) for not only beta-ing this, but for doing it extremely last minute. You're the best xx

**_1._ **

 

It starts with Camille. Or, at least, it starts because of her.

They are sitting on the couch, too close to be casual but too far apart to be anything else. Alec has his hands clasped together, trying to channel his anxiety into something that doesn’t show. Magnus has poured himself his third drink of the night, swirling it around in his glass and staring like there’s something transfixing about the delicacy of alcohol.

He’s upset. He isn’t crying or caving in on himself or burying his face in his hands, but he’s upset. It doesn’t take a detective to see it, and Alec has been counting his drinks since he knocked on his door an hour ago.

“It’s not that I love her,” Magnus tells him quietly, off-hand, once they’ve sat in the silence for too long to keep track of the minutes that have passed. Alec is watching him, watching the curve of his shoulders and the flick of his wrist and the way the light reflects off his irides as they follow the churn of his martini. He’s been watching him for the last few hours, ever since he pulled off his shoes at the door to Magnus’s loft and sat down beside him. Usually, he’d be watching because there’s something transfixing about Magnus no matter where they are or what they’re doing, but now Alec’s gaze is glued to him out of concern.

Alec doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t need to. Magnus isn’t really saying this for his benefit. He’s telling him this because it’s easier to acknowledge the truth when it’s been left to hang in the air, out loud where you can’t tuck it back into its box and pretend it doesn’t exist.

“It’s not even that I feel like I’ve betrayed her,” he continues. He lowers his glass to rest his arms on his knees. “It’s that… I’ve known her forever. She’s a horrible person and she’s done horrible things, but I’ve known her for longer than I’ve really known myself. It’s hard to let go of that, no matter how awful she may be.”

Alec hums. He stops watching Magnus for long enough to turn towards the window just behind him, where the streetlights illuminate both their profiles and cast irregular shadows across the loft. It’s dark out, the sun having set hours ago, but New York City is never really dark.

“Magnus,” he murmurs, resting a hand on his boyfriend’s shoulder. He doesn’t want to interrupt, but the pause has lasted long enough for it to feel final. “You know you’re allowed to be upset, right? You don’t have to explain. Least of all to me.”

The light dances high on Magnus’s cheekbones as he turns to look at Alec. His lips are pressed tightly together. “I know.” He hesitates. “And I know that you couldn’t possibly understand our relationship. I’m sorry. I don’t expect you to. You can be hurt that I’m upset about locking my ex-girlfriend away, too.”

Alec shakes his head. He’s a lot of things right now, but hurt isn’t one of them. He’s concerned and he’s tired and he’s something that he’s always felt but never had a name for. He’s even a little bit angry, too, because Camille has this power over Magnus that she’s never once used for good. It doesn’t hurt to know that, doesn’t feel like a betrayal, but it hurts to see how much pain it’s causing someone he cares about.

“I’m not,” he says, because it’s the easy answer. He’s never been good at explaining himself and, besides, this isn’t really about him. “I’m just worried about you. You know you did the right thing, right?”

Magnus glances at him, quiet and closed off. He frowns at something across the loft, cloaked too heavily in shadows to be easily discernible. “That doesn’t make it easy.”

Alec’s gut clenches. He runs his hand up and down his boyfriend’s back and tries to focus on that motion, the warmth of his skin and the rhythmic catch of his shirt over his shoulder bone. He can’t help it, though. His mind has always been a traitor, and it strays now to thoughts of his parents and the circle and Lydia and his sister sitting in that interrogation room. “The right thing never is,” he says, because it’s one of the first truths he had to find out for himself.

Sirens wail through the streets below and somewhere outside a cat is screaming for its next meal, but Magnus’s loft has always felt removed from the rest of the world. The balcony doors are opened, but up here they’re closed off from everything else. Nothing exists beyond this room.

Magnus’s gaze is steady, heavy, when it comes to meet Alec’s. His drink is still hanging from his fingertips, though he has yet to take a single sip. He looks tired. Not the superficial, haven’t-gotten-enough-sleep kind of tired. The bone deep, weight-of-the-world kind of tired. Alec hasn’t ever seen him like this and it’s hard not to be unnerved by the realization that the steadiest person he knows is just as capable of crumbling.

Magnus’s voice is so soft it feels like they’ve stepped into a different conversation when he says, “This is. Easy, I mean.”

Alec blinks. He smiles, softly, and thinks about kissing him just as softly, but doesn’t. Instead, he lets Magnus fall apart just a little more and sink back against him, head on his shoulder and drink abandoned on the hardwood floor at their feet. It’s only when Magnus’s face is tucked into the nape of his neck that he lets his smile drop.

Because the thing is, this has never been easy for him. Falling for Magnus was, sure, but _being with_ _him_? Being with him has been the hardest thing Alec has ever done.

Maybe this is easy, though, as far as relationships go. Maybe they’re usually worse than this. It’s not like Alec would know, but Magnus has had more than enough experience to be able to say for certain what this is. Or maybe it’s that experience that makes this easy for him but not for Alec.

 _Seventeen thousand_ , something inside him whispers. He tries to push it aside.

Magnus is pressed against his side and he’s warm, all the way down to the core, but Alec can’t help but wonder how many others have sat on a couch in a closed off corner of the world with him and held him tight. He can’t help but wonder how many of the seventeen thousand were just a night and how many were more than that.

And then, because his mind has always been a traitor, he thinks about how many years it would take to have seventeen thousand lovers. He thinks about Camille, and how Magnus has known her _forever_ , and then he thinks about how long forever is for him and how long it is for Magnus. In a moment of cold realization that should have been creeping up on him for weeks now, Alec realizes that their definitions are different.

It’s at that moment that Magnus shifts against him, tilting his head up. “She really was a bitch, though.”

Alec forces a laugh out through the uncomfortable twisting in his stomach. “That’s an understatement.”

Magnus smiles, the first one all night, and Alec’s insides settle just a little. “I really can’t say she didn’t have it coming.”

 

 

 

**_2._ **

 

There were more demons than expected. It was supposed to be a regular mission, a small infestation of ravener demons in the warehouse district downtown, so Jace had gone in cocky and they’d brought Clary along to get some experience.

It was not the easy first mission they’d planned for her, and it ended with Alec hauling his _parabatai_ into the infirmary with what little strength his overworked muscles had left. By the time Magnus arrives, Alec is curling his lips up in a grimace as his sister burns an iratze into his shoulder.

“What the hell happened?” his boyfriend demands, coming to his side. He isn’t wearing any make-up and his clothes are loose and comfortable, which means he was probably in bed when Alec texted him.

“I told you not to worry,” Alec mumbles half-heartedly. He still takes the hand Magnus offers him, twisting their fingers together as Izzy moves on to the gash in his forearm. It’s grounding, touching Magnus, and he didn’t realize he was so on edge until he feels his body start to settle. Adrenaline is hard to kick after a fight, but he always feel calmer when Magnus is beside him.

Magnus looks like he isn’t sure whether to be angry with him or pull him into a hug. “You told me not to _come_ , which means that you didn’t want to worry me, which means there’s something to be worried _about_.”

Isabelle hums, meticulously pulling Alec’s jacket back over his arm. “He’s not wrong. This is going to take a few days to heal.”

“ _Alec_ ,” Magnus says, very pointedly.

Alec looks away. He traces the sheets of the infirmary bed with the hand Izzy’s just released, feeling the fabric underneath his fingertips and wondering if, behind the curtain they’ve tugged out to obstruct his view, Jace is doing the same.

He was hurt worse than Alec. The kind of hurt that could last the rest of his life, if he isn’t careful about it. His blood is all over the floor and Alec’s clothes, dried onto Clary’s shoes and Isabelle’s hands.

It was almost Alec, though, who took the full brunt of the ravener’s attack, jaws closing around bone and muscle and _tearing_ until they nearly gave way. Jace had thrown himself into its path last minute and luckily sustained a much less fatal blow than Alec would have, but it had been a near thing.

He shakes his head. There is something whispering in the back of his mind again, something curling up in stomach that wasn’t there before, but Alec is an expert at ignoring things he doesn’t want to think about.

“I’ll heal,” he says eventually, softly, as he runs his thumb over the back of Magnus’s hand. It’s warm in his own, as it always is, and he wishes Magnus could pass some of his strength to him just through touch. He could use it right now.

Because the truth is that he will heal, he always will, until he won’t. He’ll always call his boyfriend to tell him he’ll be home late, he just has to get patched up first, until he won’t. He’ll always hold Magnus’s hand and thank whatever stars aligned to give him this, to bring him back to this, until he won’t.

There is going to be a night where he doesn’t come home, because Alec isn’t immortal and even if he was, shadowhunters die young. No matter how many years their bodies could last, they almost never get to live them out.

And then what? He’s one of millions who have given their lives to a fight that will never end and one of seventeen thousand who have loved someone who will always love another when they’re gone.

Alec has tried not to think about that since the night Camille was imprisoned. He’s mostly succeeded, but it always seems to sneak up on him when he’s least prepared for it.

The thing is, though, is that Alec doesn’t really care how many people Magnus has been with. He doesn’t care about anyone who came before him. What he does care about, what makes his chest clench no matter how hard he tries to ignore it, is who will come after him. Will he just be one of seventeen thousand who don’t matter anymore, too?

Magnus huffs, fond and irritated, and squeezes his good shoulder hard as he drops a kiss into his hair, pulling him back to the infirmary and his sister’s long dark hair tickling his arm. “Come on, I’m taking you home,” he asserts, already helping the injured shadowhunter to his feet.

Alec smiles wanly back, resting his arm across his boyfriend’s shoulder and drawing him into a slow kiss in a rare display of public affection.

“I love you,” he whispers, and tells himself that’s all that matters.

When Magnus tucks his hair behind his ear and whispers back, “I love you too,” he can almost convince himself it is.  


 

 

**_3._ **

 

The third time it comes up, Alec has long since come to terms with the fact that Magnus is going to outlive him. Seventeen thousand has also re-become just a number to him, not one associated with his boyfriend, and he’s content in both his role as the head of the New York institute and his relationship with Magnus.

So content, in fact, that somewhere along the way he’s started pretty much living at Magnus’s place. Magnus has always referred to it as home, even when speaking for Alec, but now that’s what Alec calls it, too. There’s a bin for his seraph blades by the door, a hook on the wall for his bow and quiver, and a quarter of the closet is now entirely varying shades of black — a sight Magnus has bemoaned on more than one occasion.

“Alec,” his boyfriend calls out just as he makes his way through the door, toeing off his shoes and wincing at the ichor dripping off his jacket. “Could you help me with this?”

Alec wrinkles his nose as he pokes at the dark stain, his hands already sticky with the substance. “Just a second!” he calls back, carefully divesting himself of the coat and scrunching it into a ball to keep it from dripping anymore. He throws it in the laundry room, running his hands under the tap until they come away clean, before heading back out into the main room to locate Magnus.

He finds him in his study, peering at an old, dusty tome Alec is certain hasn’t been touched in at least a century. There’s a potion brewing on the table beside him, a complicated collection of tubes and flutes containing oddly coloured liquid. Steam curls away from the contraption, vanishing into the air as quickly as it appears.

Alec pushes his hair away from his face, rounding the table to peer over Magnus’s shoulder at the recipe, a hand running across his shoulders in greeting. “Is this for that selkie that was here last week?”

Magnus hums, the look of pure concentration on his face shifting to frustration as he pulls his eyes from the book and leans back into his boyfriend’s touch. “A fertility potion,” he replies. “And one I haven’t made in at _least_ a century.”

Alec frowns. “Why this one, then? There must be others.”

“There are,” Magnus agrees. “But she’s barren because of a curse, not her biology, so it’s a little more tricky to undo. This is the _easy_ way.”

Alec makes a noise of acknowledgement, staring down at the recipe for another long moment before giving up trying to make sense of a language he’s never learned. He leans back against the table, turned to look at Magnus. “What did you need help with?”

Magnus blinks, seeming to have only just remembered his request. “Oh,” he exclaims, pausing. In one fluid movement, he pushes himself out of his chair and steps over to the potion-brewing contraption. He waves a hand at it, “I need you to unscrew that tube from the valve.”

Alec moves closer to get a better look, appraising it thoughtfully. It takes only a second to undo the part, twisting it out of place and offering it to Magnus. “That’s it?”

Magnus grins, graciously accepting the offering and setting it down on the table beside him. “What else is a handsome, _strong_ , shadowhunter boyfriend good for?”

Alec grins back, stepping just a little closer. Like this, he can feel Magnus’s breath on his cheek and the heat of his body just an inch from his own. “I can think of a few things.”

Entwining his arms around Alec’s neck, Magnus makes a soft sound in the back of his throat, his grin turning into a soft, private smile. “As could I,” he murmurs, lashes fluttering against his skin as he presses a gentle kiss to his boyfriend’s lips. Alec sighs into it and presses his hands to Magnus’s hips, feeling the weight of his body.

In a moment, Magnus pulls back and away from him completely, turning back to his potion with a sad expression. “ _But_ ,” he emphasizes, “unfortunately nothing that would be a good idea when I’ve been inhaling this,” he waves an unhappy hand towards the potion, grimacing in disgust, “ _thing_ ’s fumes all day.”

“Why?” Alec questions, curious. He folds his arms over his chest, leaning forwards to inspect a vial of particularly vibrant pink liquid. “What would happen?”

Magnus shrugs. “I don’t know. I’ve never given a fertility potion to a man.”

Alec blinks, straightening up. “Oh,” he says, realizing Magnus’s concern. “ _Oh_.”

“I mean,” Magnus hurries to amend. He gives Alec a worried, uncertain look. “Not that we wouldn’t make beautiful babies. But that’s a little outside of even _my_ comfort zone and I have no desire to be the pioneer of _this_ particular… Well, you get the idea.”

“Yeah,” Alec coughs. “Right.” And then, because he can’t help being curious. “Do you think it would actually work?”

Magnus breathes a sigh of relief, probably at the brief awkwardness having passed, and turns to inspect the same pink vial as Alec is. “I don’t know,” he admits. He shrugs again. “I’m sure someone will test it out sooner or later.”

Alec hums. He glances at the bookshelves that line the wall of the study, at the thousands of books wedged into every nook and cranny. An eclectic collection of century-old fiction and warlock spell books, it’s as much a testament to Magnus’s long life spent acquiring them as it is to his assorted tastes. Tucked in between them, heirlooms from times Alec knows nothing about give the room as much character as its owner.

Alec loves the study. He doesn’t see it often, respecting Magnus’s space and not wanting to intrude on his work, but standing here always makes him feel closer to the man he’s chosen to spend his life with. There are so many stories in every inch of this room, so many things he could spend his whole life learning about the man he loves, and a part of him takes comfort in knowing that he’s one of them. There is a slip of red embroidered with gold tucked between the pages of a book in a language he’s never heard of, the omamori he gave Magnus on one of their first dates. His chest settles every time he sees it.

“Magnus,” he starts softly, looking at it now. “Do you want kids?”

A sprig of lavender in his hand, Magnus hesitates. He glances at Alec, contemplating, and crumbles the flower between his fingers, dusting it off into one of the open flutes. The concoction changes from violet to midnight blue, a sweet aroma drifting into the room. Alec waits patiently for Magnus to re-cap the vial holding the rest of the flower, watching the fluidity with which Magnus works.

“I hadn’t really thought about it before now,” Magnus tells him quietly. He doesn’t sound surprised, or like the question was unexpected. “I’d never found someone I’d want to have them _with_.”

Alec’s eyes trace the side of his face — the curve of his jaw, the slope of his cheekbones, his lips. The light is dim and artificial in here, no windows to let the sun in, but the gentle glow is kind to Magnus’s skin, adding warmth to its tone.

He takes a breath. “I don’t know what that means.”

Magnus sighs, but it’s fond like the smile that graces his features. He rests a hand on Alec’s arm, the other coming up to pull at his earing like he does when he’s uncertain about something.

“It means,” he says, meeting Alec’s eyes, “that I think I may have found that someone, after all.” He pauses, letting that sink in as Alec’s features soften. Just as Alec is about to kiss him, Magnus’s eyes dart away and he hesitates. “Do you?”

Alec smiles with his eyes, feeling something warm settle in his chest. He rests his hand over Magnus’s, turning his gaze to where they touch. Magnus is wearing an intricate collection of rings, as he usually is, and Alec finds himself tracing the silver band around his index finger. “Yes,” he replies, with a confidence that only seems to come when he’s with someone he loves.

Magnus smiles back, kissing him slowly and with so much care that Alec feels fragile for a second. He watches the warlock turn back to his potion, wanting to follow as he pulls away but knowing he has work to do.

As if reading his mind, Magnus slides his spellbook across the table and says, “This should only be a few more hours.” Dropping a kiss to his cheek, Alec touches his shoulder and hums his acknowledgement, slipping out the door.

Before he does, he can’t help but take in the shelves upon shelves of memories. Centuries worth, all tucked into one room.

Unbidden, the thoughts Camille had stirred up all those months ago come trickling back in. This is serious, him and Magnus. It’s permanent. Alec will build the rest of his life with him and spend it loving him. They might even have a family together.

_I think I may have found that someone._

For the first time, Alec realizes that while seventeen thousand doesn’t really matter to him anymore, he can take comfort in the fact that maybe, just maybe, it’s not something he’s ever going to be a part of.

 

 

 

**_4._ **

 

“What are you looking at?” Alec questions curiously, pouring himself a glass of water. Magnus is sitting in the living room, a thick binder open in his lab. He’s tracing his fingers down the page in a way that Alec could only call reverent, a far-off expression on his face.

Magnus doesn’t look at him, thumbing something at the top of the page. “Just an old photo album. Catarina found it sorting through her place in Versailles. It’s… so many memories.”

Running his finger through the condensation that’s gathered on his glass, Alec is silent for a moment. The expression Magnus is wearing isn’t dissimilar to the one he wore the night Camille was imprisoned, but it’s quieter. Less painful.

“Good ones?” he asks carefully, resting his hands flat on the counter.

Magnus does look at him now, an unreadable look in his eyes. In an instant, his face clears and his lips settle into a smile as he flips the album shut in one quick motion. “Old ones,” he corrects, rising from the couch. He brushes invisible dust from his pants, the silk material of his shirt shifting and shimmering where it catches the light.

Alec watches him attentively, concern unfurling inside of him. He doesn’t like the way Magnus is holding himself or the expression that isn’t there anymore but wasn’t gone fast enough for him to miss it.

He glances at the album, sitting innocently on the coffee table right beside the flowers Magnus gave him last week and the party invitation Isabelle had forced into his hands the other night. The cover is faded, an off-white that looks like it might have once been green, and there’s something written across the top in the kind of delicate cursive that Alec has only seen in the hand-written bestiaries at the Institute.

It feels old. Ancient, even. Like it belongs in another time.

Alec wonders if one day he will, too. If Magnus will have a photo album of their life that hurts to look at, that he pulls out on random days to trace his fingers over and feel the loss of something, someone.

Magnus comes around the counter to kiss him, inhaling deeply as he does. He rests his hands on the sides of Alec’s face, his painted nails a contrast to the fair skin, and runs his thumb over his cheekbone.

“I love you,” he says, like it’s very important that Alec knows this, and that he knows it at exactly this moment.

Alec brings a hand up to wrap around Magnus’s wrist, holding him close as he leans into his touch. He closes his eyes for a second. He isn’t sure what’s gotten into Magnus, what feelings seeing his old photographs has brought up in him, but he’s learned that it’s best to let Magnus tell him what he needs. “I love you too.”

Magnus smiles, seeming to snap out of it, and pats his shoulder reassuringly as he pulls away. He sneaks a sip of Alec’s water, grinning as Alec rolls his eyes, and hands it back with a sparkle in his eyes.

When he retreats into his study, he takes the album with him.

 

 

 

**_5._ **

 

It starts with Camille and it ends with someone who’s name Alec doesn’t know.

“We met in the sixties,” Magnus tells him, curled up in his arms with a cup of tea instead of alcohol and a throw blanket tossed over both their legs. “He was so young then, barely sixteen. I found him on the streets, working the corner. I thought… I hoped I could help him.”

Alec runs his hands down Magnus’s arms, trying to provide as much comfort as he can in the only way he knows how. Isabelle has only ever needed to be held when she’s upset, and Jace mostly just wants to hunt or hit something. Tactile comfort is something Alec has gotten very good at over the years.

Magnus trails off. It’s hard for him, talking about it, especially when the wound is so fresh.  When Magnus told him that his friend had passed away, Alec hadn’t asked him anything more about it. He’d sat beside him on the couch, not sure what to say until Magnus pulled him over and wound himself around him, resting his head on his chest. Alec hadn’t pushed. Magnus didn’t like to talk about things that upset him.

An hour later, Magnus must have decided that this wasn’t one of those things, or maybe that he’d feel better talking about it, after all. Or maybe it was something else that had brought it on. Alec had never been good at reading Magnus when he didn’t want to be read.

“Did you?” he encourages, though he already knows the answer.

Magnus is silent for a moment. “I like to think I did, but maybe he would have been just fine without me, too.”

Alec tucks a stray lock of hair back behind Magnus’s ear, holding him just a little bit closer. Magnus doesn’t say anything else, just lets the silence lap over them. They sit on the couch for hours, pressed together as the sun sets and the moon climbs up into the sky, the tea gone cold on the coffee table.

Alec wonders how many lost loved ones it takes to stop feeling the grief of their passing. Magnus must have lost hundreds by now and, because Alec knows him and how deeply he feels everything, must have felt each loss as profoundly as the next. He wonders how hard it must be to move on from that, to move forward in life when it would be so easy to let it all weigh you down. If any of Alec’s siblings ever died, he isn’t sure he’d be able to pull himself back together after.

The sun has started to creep back into the sky when Magnus shifts in his arms, holding tightly to him. “I don’t want to lose you,” he whispers, his lips brushing the skin of Alec’s neck. He sounds exhausted. Alec isn’t sure when he woke up yesterday, but he hasn’t slept since.

Taking a deep breath, Alec can’t help but wonder if it’s occurred to Magnus yet that he’s going to have to. It’s been occurring to Alec for a long time now, over and over each time he manages to push the thought aside, but maybe Magnus has caught on yet. Maybe it deserves a conversation, after all, if only to ease the awful feeling Alec gets every time he remembers that this is only forever for one of them.

He just hadn’t wanted to bother Magnus. He didn’t want to let his insecurities show or doom something that had barely even started. He didn’t want to make Magnus feel like there was any part of him that he couldn’t handle, immortality included, and he’d thought that if he told himself it didn’t matter, it wouldn’t.

In retrospect, that was stupid. Alec’s inexperience with relationships rearing its ugly head and making him think it wasn’t okay to need a little reassurance sometimes. Now, with a stable relationship that he’s worked hard at, that’s never been easy but has _always_ been worth it, Alec knows that part of being with someone is being comfortable enough with them to bring up the things that trouble you.

He’ll talk to Magnus. Not today, not even this week, not when Magnus is grieving and needing comfort himself, but soon.

 

 

 

**_\+ 1._ **

 

A month passes. Magnus tucks a few new photographs into a less-weathered album while Alec is busy pretending not to be worried about him. Alec also keeps busy pretending not to notice that Magnus very desperately wants to ask him something, but keeps backing down as soon as he gets the chance. So instead of asking, Magnus spends a lot of him looking at him with wide eyes, tugging at his earlobe and glancing away like he didn’t even notice he was there every time Alec turns to look back.

Alec doesn’t bring up Magnus’s immortality. It doesn’t feel like the right time, and Alec is a patient man. Now that he knows it’s going to happen, he can wait as long as he needs. The feeling that had been building up is gone, tamed by the knowledge that he’s going to let it air itself out as soon as he has the chance.

It’s unexpected, when it happens, but it’s also a now-or-never kind of moment, so Alec doesn’t really have a choice.

They’re at the institute, stood off to the side as shadowhunters rush about, patching each other up or reporting for duty or groaning about the incident paperwork they’re going to have to fill out. Magnus is brushing the dirt off of his jacket, inspecting the tear in his jeans as Alec pokes gingerly at the bruise on his shoulder. Relatively speaking, it could have been worse.

“This was Clary’s fault,” Alec grumbles, rolling the sleeve of his shirt back down and shaking out his arms.

“For once, I agree,” Magnus replies, straightening up. He shoves his hands into his pockets, peering out at the gaggle of shadowhunters before turning back to the only one he cares about. “Are you okay?”

Alec shrugs. “Just a couple scrapes and bruises. Nothing an iratze won’t fix.”

Apparently not reassured, Magnus reaches over to tug Alec’s sleeve back up with a frown. He sighs in relief when he catches sight of the injury, but waves a hand over it anyway, magic sparking at his fingertips. When he lets Alec’s sleeve fall again, the bruise is gone.

Alec rolls his eyes at him fondly and Magnus catches it with a grumble. “I don’t like seeing you hurt,” he defends, stuffing his hands into his coat pockets more aggressively this time. Nonetheless, when Alec gives him the soft smile he reserves for the people he holds closest, Magnus doesn’t even try not to smile back.

They’re both still smiling tenderly at each other when Magnus takes a deep breath and whispers, “Marry me?”

Alec blinks. His heart does something inexplicable in his chest as he searches Magnus’s eyes, everything inside of him warming at the softness of his lover’s expression.

His own expression must be just as soft when he says, “That’s not at all how I thought you would ask.”

Magnus laughs, running a hand through his hair and glancing out at the chaos of the Institute post-attack. “No, but it’s how I thought you might like to be asked. I was originally going to go for some big display at the eiffel tower, but I realized you’d be mortified.”

Alec nods. He loves Magnus and he isn’t ashamed of that, but Alec has always been the kind of person who prefers for private things to remain, well, private. He gets uncomfortable when Isabelle kisses his cheek in public.

He takes a deep breath, turning towards the rest of the Institute as well. No one is looking their way, all caught up in their own thing. He catches sight of Jace and Clary leaned over a tablet, deep in concentration with matching frowns on their faces. Isabelle is standing with their parents, arguing wholeheartedly about something that has Maryse glancing uncertainly at her husband. He wonders if they’ve finally told her they’re separating.

“Magnus,” he says slowly, unable to keep the worry from his tone. “You know you’re going to lose me eventually, don’t you?”

Magnus takes a deep breath of his own, like the question is a physical blow that’s left him winded. His brows come together, a vulnerability he doesn’t usually show overtaking his expression. He’s thought about it, Alec can tell, but maybe he’s been pushing the thought aside the same way Alec has.

“I know,” he murmurs. His eyes have found Isabelle, too, and they stay there for a beat before flicking back to Alec. “And it will kill me when that happens, but I don’t want to live in fear of it. I love you. I want to spend what time we have together loving you, not worrying about the time that comes after. I… This is it for me, Alec. There isn’t going to ever be anyone else.”

Alec swallows hard. Magnus’s gaze is as heavy as his words, but for once the pressure doesn’t scare Alec. “It’d be okay if there were. I don’t want you to be alone forever, not on my account.”

“It won’t be on your account,” Magnus assures him. “I don’t… Alec, it’s not that I don’t think I’ll be able to move on. It’s that I don’t think I’ll need to. I’m okay with loving you for an eternity, even after you’re gone. I’ll be okay with it knowing that I got to have this. What we have now is enough to last me the rest of my life.” He pauses, exhaling softly. He gives Alec an urgent look and it’s clear that this is something he needs him to understand. “And besides, who knows how long I’ll live? I could go out before you.”

“You won’t,” Alec assures in a rush, a hot flash of panic overtaking him at the thought. He settles when he sees the look of fond exasperation Magnus is giving him for having completely overlooked the point. “But… I get it. It’d be the same for me, if…” He can’t even think about it, let alone say it. He shakes his head. “i just… I didn’t want to think about you being miserable after I die. I want you to be happy, Magnus. And if someone else makes you happy — I know what you said, let me finish — if someone else makes you happy, then I want that for you. I need you to know that. Even if you say I’ll still make you happy when I’m gone… Even if you say that, it’s okay if you find out that isn’t true.”

Magnus opens his mouth like he’s about to say something, but then closes it. He huffs out a breath, looking away, and Alec can see that his eyes are wet even as Magnus hurriedly wipes the tears away.

Cursing under his breath, Magnus wipes his hand off on his jacket and looks back at Alec with a miserably loving expression. “This is why you’re it for me,” he says simply.

“And why you’ll marry me?” Alec replies, a small smile turning up the corners of his lips. He reaches out, gathering a stray tear up with his thumb, caressing Magnus’s cheek.

Magnus smiles back through his tears, choking out a laugh and pulling Alec’s hand into his own. “I hope you know I do have a ring,” he says. “I wasn’t planning for it be _this_ casual. I just didn’t think to grab it when we got called off to battle.”

Alec laughs. “I have one, too,” he says, leaning down to kiss him.


End file.
